At night, when the sea cradles meAnd the pale star gleamLies down on its broad waves,Then I free myself whollyFrom all activity and all the loveAnd stand silent and breathe purely,Alone, alone cradled by the seaThat lies there, cold and silent, with a thousand lights.Then I have to think of my friendsAnd my gaze sinks into their gazesAnd I ask each one, silent, alone:“Are you still mine”Is my sorrow a sorrow to you, my death a death?Do you feel from my love, my grief,Just a breath, just an echo?”And the sea peacefully gazes back, silent,And smiles: no.And no greeting and now answer comes from anywhere.

when will the full moon arrive
I raise a cup of wine and ask the grey skies.
this evening I wonder
what year is it in the celestial heavens?
I yearn to soar with the winds
yet I fear the jade pagoda and crystal chambers
for the lofty peak is defeated by the bitter cold.
rising to a dance that’s casting a distinct shadow
where in this mortal world!

circling red chambers
descending through latticed windows
shining upon the sleepless.
bearing no ill will
yet at partings, why is she full?
men has their sorrow, joy, farewells, and reunions
the moon has her darkness, brightness, wanings, and waxings
from a long time ago, life has never been perfect.
still I pray for the longevity of men
despite a thousand miles apart, we marvel at her beauty together.

The life to come sold for a morsel of zest –
Master, you will be punished!
A world not yet planed smooth, like a marble slab,
will crush you while you rest.
See not fully told prophecies limp down the street
and weep orphaned on the stairs!
And smouldering sparks, your love and hate,
are plundered by spiritual beggars

and word clowns copy your tone
and shriek, “better, more elevated!”
You will rise enraged, tongue dry as a stone,
the earthly vessel desolated.

2

Day after day the early morning passes in dream;
then pleasantries till lunch ˗ impressing others.
You drink unaware, wavelets of memory cream.
The red wine gurgles, your eyes in distant focus.

A fix on towers and monuments they assume,
as rainbows touch the forested ends of the earth
while below rushes a street and petrol engines fume
to the god of the city, of filth, of “Time is money…”

Smart friends caution: “Beware of tramcars! Watch out
when you cut across a street. Don’t dream but look!”
They don’t see the downtrodden who fall, and shout
eagle-like thoughts to the scabby ground.

3

Youth is gone. You must tell your heart
this in the silence.
As evening comes on, a cricket saws somewhere apart
and bells lament in the distance.

The wine-cup drunk to the lees, was drained
and savoured.
The once white tablecloth now burns red-stained;
was it blood, or wine you poured?

The coming greyness will, like snowy billows,
the stains obliterate.
Leaving a fool who bangs his head on the pillows
and scratches his bald pate.

4

Your song comes again on a wave from afar,
As if on Messiah’s horse, she rides the cresting white;
yellow daisies shine again in the sky
and on the green earth, clever stars grow bright.

How rich the greenery hangs and spills over trees!
The flowers – foam and lace and piles of crepe-red.
Fish are flying, silver swallows swim
and each blonde girl carries a sun on her head.

Your song shoots soundless lightning without thunder,
your fingers tremble, unexpectedly animate.
The harsh world looks kindly on and winks to you
” Blessed are all who suffer and build, who weep and create.”

Your withered drafts are becoming soft and tender,
The letters – small dark eyes with sparks of fieriness;
get up now Master, pick up your sharp chisel –
and carve your hero from this chaotic mess.

Notes to Between:

Part 1,Verse 1: The first line brings to mind both Macbeth’s readiness to jump the life to come, and Esau’s trading his birthright for a mess of pottage. kapele glik (tiny bit of pleasure, bliss) – followed by mayster on the next line – could be read as a pun on kapelmayster (bandleader) i.e. master of trivial pleasures with …men vet dikh bashtrofn read as – a forfeit i.e., punishment in the life to come.
line 3 nit derhublt, literally means not completely planed or shaped – and see its further development in the last two lines of the poem.
Verse 2 nit derzogte not altogether told, is reminiscent of Macbeth’s witches and the future complications they did not foretell.
Part 2 verse 1, line 2 ….in yoytse zayn far layt, can also be translated as keeping up appearances.
Part 3 verse 2, line1 …bizn tifn dek literally means to the deepest level, presumably referring to life experience; nicely put into perspective by the query in the last two lines of this verse.
Part 4 verse1, line 4 shtern kluge means clever stars, and clever foreheads – and the translation intends to convey both at once.
verse3, line 2 ….kraft can be rendered power, force, energy.
verse 4, line 1 …fardarte pergamentn, literally withered parchments. The only parchments by this time were (and still are) the sacred books at the centre of synagogue worship; a parallel that places grand value on his own writing!
verse 4, line 2: the small dark fiery letters are of course in Hebrew script
verse 4, line 4 …..kaos shtik – lump of chaos or block of chaos.
Translated and annotated by Beni Gothajner (2012)

Praise me, says God, and I will know that you love me.
Curse me, says God, and I will know that you love me.
Praise me or curse me
And I will know that you love me.

Sing out my graces, says God,
Raise your fist against me and revile, says God.
Sing out graces or revile,
Reviling is also a kind of praise,
says God.

But if you sit fenced off in your apathy,
says God,
If you sit entrenched in: “I don’t give a hang,” says God,
If you look at the stars and yawn,
If you see suffering and don’t cry out,
If you don’t praise and you don’t revile,
Then I created you in vain, says God.